Maximilian took Gertrude by her good hand then spun her around like a dreidel, singing the dreidel song all the way until she nearly passed out.
“Now wet us kiss with tongues, my snookie-ookopus,” Maximilian bellowed with a glint in his eye. “How is my wittle sweet petunia this evey-wevey?”
“Wonderfully-wully as wong as you’re withy-ithy me, pookie wookie sauce,” Gertrude peeped daintily.
“Does my wittle sweet summer waspberry muffy-uffin want some kissywisses from her wovey-dovey?” Maximilian exclaimed engagingly, tossing woses and hydwangeas at her atop the beddy-wed.
“Your wittle honeydew meloncicle would simply adore some kissywissypoos from her big, strong, dewectable deary-weary,” Gertrude chirped elegantly.
They kissed passionately. Even the man across the street watching through the telescope could hear “Dreamweaver” playing from a disty-wistance.
“My wittle mellifluous sweetmeat’s lips taste so delici-ici-icious to me. I just want to eat you with a wittle spoony-woon,” Maximilian charismatically proclaimed.
“And your wittle nectarousy-wousy could eat up her special wittle confectionawy-wary bonbon with choppy wopsticks and a Kwazy Straw,” Gertrude squeaked fetchingly.
“Does my ambwosial sugarplum care for some womantic musi-woosic while she makes sweety wove wove with her wittle jar of pweserves?” Maximilian vociferated.
“Oh, yessy wessy, my comewy passion banqi-anquet,” Gertrude tweeted.
“What would my elfin dinky winky do do wike to wisten to?” Maxy-waxy howled.
“It matters not, my winsome inamorata-wata, my extract, my gelatin spready-weddy, my marmalade sandy-andwich,” Gertrudie-oodie-oodie cheepy-eepy-eeped.
“Full discwosure, Gertwude, my sweet,” Maximilian said. “I found out today that I have a touch of the syphi-iphillis.”
“Well, Syphi-iphillis is my vewy favowite Sesame Stweet chawacter, my muppy-uppet.”